


Tints and Pigments

by J_EnotsoLovely



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Imagery, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, No Love Traingles, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Pre-Timeskip, References to Depression, Requited Unrequited Love, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, Whole Cake Island Arc Spoilers, Zoro and Robin isn't major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_EnotsoLovely/pseuds/J_EnotsoLovely
Summary: Zoro had taken Sanji's heart captive on the sea. When the swordsman raised his katana in the air and declared Luffy as King of the Pirates. Sanji's favorite color was blue, beautiful, cerulean blue, though in some part deep inside, his mind locked away the truth that green had taken precedence in his heart.If anyone would bother to ask, Zoro would admit that blue was his favorite color. They were there, the same as him, equal and free, so there was really no point in putting one above the other. But hell, Sanji was always lowering himself to accommodate everyone's needs. It wouldn't hurt to put him on a pedestal, just this once, even if it was only in Zoro's mind.Or: Sanji and Zoro and their favorite colors
Relationships: Minor Roronoa Zoro/Nico Robin - Relationship, Monkey D. Luffy & Nami & Roronoa Zoro & Usopp & Vinsmoke Sanji, Monkey D. Luffy & Roronoa Zoro, Nami & Roronoa Zoro, Nico Robin/Roronoa Zoro, Roronoa Zoro & Usopp, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji, Vinsmoke Sanji & Nami
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Sanji and Marimo's

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read my fic A Pirates Nature there's really no need to read this, since it comes directly from the chapter. I just really love it and wanted to give them their own oneshot
> 
> Still though, please enjoy!

_His favorite color was blue, though anyone who had known him for a significant amount of time would be hard pressed to object and say that it was actually green. His heart and soul belonged to the sea-- rightfully so because the sea had been his savior. Brilliant colors lighting up his bleak life and giving it a meaning he was raised to believe he didn't deserve. However, Sanji would be lying if he said his mind wasn't fascinated by land. Trees, plants, and herbs, water, fish, and home; the ocean and forests both painted him with a warm sensation of comfort. The sense of being so wholly unimportant, waters exceedingly vast and hiding him from the clutching palms of **those people.** The sea was his shelter. The forest was a reminder that there was still someplace else to go, if pirating ever grew to be distasteful, a rather funny oxymoron considering that land and trees cannot drift, are to be locked forever in the same spot and yet signify a bigger world. That there is always more beyond what the eye could see. Gol D. Roger was a fantastic pirate, a warrior on the ocean, but his call to the people happened on land._

_Zoro had taken Sanji's heart captive on the sea. When the swordsman raised his katana in the air and declared Luffy as King of the Pirates. When he shed salty tears, a similar blue as to the water around them and upon the sight Sanji had an epiphany. A simple understanding that if land and ocean had discovered a way to merge, to personify, it's accumulation would be this: The Swordsman Roronoa Zoro._

_His favorite color was blue, for the sky and sea reminded him of lovely women, calm one moment and wickedly violent the next. They were forces to be reckoned with, for women carried within them the will of Mother Nature herself, blessed with tranquility and gifted with assets, necessary for survival. Women were a harbinger of life and more dangerous than death, much like the water surrounding him. Sanji's favorite color was blue, beautiful, cerulean blue, though in some part deep inside, his mind locked away the truth that green had taken precedence in his heart. It started with taunts, brazen jibes to each other's appearance. Insulting one another's skill, knowing that it was lies. There was a a sickening satisfaction he felt when Zoro's blatant, unfriendly scowl often disappeared into a rough smirk whenever the chef came around. It was followed by another exchanging of words and an inevitable fight where Sanji had been loathe to admit that the green head was quite possibly his equal._

_Marimo._

_It was a moss ball that the chef once_ _owned at the Baratie, too lazy to give it a true name. It was fuzzy and soft and cute and Sanji had hated it because although the plant was edible, he couldn't bring himself to do away with it. He'd grown fond of the stupid thing, disgustingly fond and he hated Marimo for that, often raising a knife high in the air with intents to split the damn thing in half, only to stop and sigh, rubbing the silky hairs along his cheek._

_Sanji had given Zoro the name Marimo, in honor of his old plant friend-- which Zeff soon threw in the ocean once he understood the blonde would not eat it-- and contrary to whatever bullshit the tan teen had spewed afterwards, the chef thought that Zoro quite liked the nickname._

_He felt his ears burn as he came to the realization that the knowledge made him stupidly happy._

_He didn't bother to wipe the silly grin off of his face._

_-_

_It was during their time at Arlong Park that Sanji realized he hated women._

_Not truly._

_He could never bring himself to despise the magnificent creatures who were benevolent enough to give birth to life itself. But while watching Nami break down, bleeding her heart out, and pleading for help, he came to the conclusion that he hated women's fragility. That he never wanted to be saddled with the insurmountable burdens that women faced._

_That he didn't want to be weak._

_And the moment the thought had crossed his mind, Sanji had hated himself more than ever before. Because it was proof, undeniable proof that he let **those people** taint him. That at some point, he began to believe **their** words, began to agree with **their** ideology: that women were useless in the real world and better suited to home life. But he didn't agree that they were toys meant to sate the male hormonal whims. _

_He didn't see women as lesser, if anything, they were Goddesses, destined to be forever worshiped. Sanji wanted to protect them._

_But he feared being seen as feminine, because even though he didn't agree with **them** , there was no telling who else thought that weakness equaled femininity. And as **they** beat him, as **they** tortured him, **they** told his 10 year old self that he was no better than a woman, and to be a woman was to subjugate yourself to a man, to allow oneself to be raped. To be used._

_Sanji hated that, that was the one lesson he couldn't_ shake. _He was trapped within an odd limbo, set in a mentality that wasn't even his._

_And when his feelings for Zoro blossomed, it was terrifying, because Zoro was strong. And Sanji knew, he just **knew** that the moment he allowed his guard to drop, the swordsman would rip into him viciously, would see the cook as nothing but a mere woman. No longer someone worthy of being on equal footing. Without knowing how he knew, Sanji knew that Zoro wasn't the kind of man to protect women. _

_Then the chef heard about a certain Marimo who made a promise to a certain girl. A girl who was not the subject of love, and not a promise to come back alive. It wasn't romantic in the slightest._

_It was a promise between rivals._

_It was the moment Sanji realized that women could fend for themselves. That his chivalry was-- in hindsight-- remarkably condescending. But he couldn't stop._

_Somewhere deep inside, buried withing the depths of his insecurities, Sanji felt a hot scorching sensation of guilt._

_Because **they** had beat the ideals into him. **They** planted the seed in his mind and watched gleefully as it grew, amplified by the death of his mother. **They** rejoiced, because there was a part of him that **they** had full control over._

_And Sanji didn't think that **they** would let go any time soon._

_-_

_Sanji loved Zoro._

_He knew it, he knew he couldn't lie to himself anymore. Not when the idiot thought cutting off legs was a good idea._

_Later when the situation had been resolved, and the Strawhats gained some much needed rest time, the chef found a secluded part of the ship and threw up until he dry heaved._

_He loved Zoro._

_And he hated it. It was wrong. He was a lady's man. He put on the planet to chase after beautiful, demure women. To pamper them senseless. So he hated that it Zoro who stole his heart._

_Though mainly because he knew the swordsman would never love him back._


	2. Zoro and Hues

_If asked, Zoro would claim to not have a favorite color. They were there, the same as him, equal and free, so what was the point of putting one above another?_

_It wasn't until he met Luffy, and joined him on the crew, that his world expanded and life exploded in various hues. His captain was the most misleading, a demon with smile bright enough to rival God, if such a God existed. Luffy dressed in red, and the scent of blood followed like a loyal pet. His onyx eyes shone, a black hole which took everything in and let nothing out, so all encompassing that even knowing you were going to sink, it was impossible to look away. The day Zoro joined their pirateless crew was the day he signed his life over to a true monster. He wondered why no one could see it but him. The darkness that resided in Monkey D.Luffy._

_Nami came next, with her vibrant hair and even louder personality. A thief with seduction tactics more obvious than most of the half-assed bounty hunters he'd met in his day. He didn't trust her, there was something sinister and vengeful that lurked in her too-perceptive gaze. Something filled with wrath, a gaze not unlike his own. If he were a different person, borne into a different body and experienced the chance encounter of meeting Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, he wouldn't trust him. And if he wouldn't trust himself, then there was no way to trust someone of the same cloth._ _He couldn't deny that liked her, though. He liked her a lot. She was smart, and while not combat efficient, proved to be capable in other ways. They'd be lost without her, literally._ _Not that he'd ever admit it, but he didn't think he could survive anymore without that bright orange flame to guide him on his path, even if she charged interest every step of the way._

_Usopp was another story. Filled with browns and tans that reminded Zoro of nature. Of his long nights spend in forests, scavenging, hunting, and creating. Usopp proved to all that, though it seemed like the kid hadn't realized it yet. Resourceful, determined to make something from nothing. A liar who wove intricate stories so outrageous that only someone like Luffy could make them come true. A steady aura, despite his fluctuating bravery and constant cowardice. Usopp was an honorable man, and Zoro couldn't wait to tell him, when the time was right._

_Lulled into a calm by their sniper's neutral colors, going to the Baratie was like getting slashed across the face with rays of the sun. It wasn't until much later, that he realized the sun paled in comparison to those silky golden locks. A pretty boy, who's introduction to Zoro was that of holding a marine official by the throat spewing some crap about cooking. He didn't hear. His eyes were locked on the strands of red sliding down strong, fair skinned fingers. The way those thin, pink lips worked skillfully around an equally thin cigarette. Sanji, the blonde's name was and from the moment they met, Zoro could see right through him. It wasn't that his happiness was faked, but below it resided a burning anger and aching fear. If Zoro was ever asked how he knew, the only semblance of an answer that he'd be able to give was "the idiot cook always wears black". A dark hue that hid everything from sight with it's opaqueness._

_When Sanji left, deciding to travel with them, Zoro thought he'd see the hurt disappear, or at the very least fade. For some reason, it didn't. And that's when he realized the scars were far deeper than he'd originally guessed. He touched his chest, running his fingers down the gnarled gash Mihawk gave him and wondered if Sanji's scars were on his back. He wondered what color they were._

_-_

_It was during their time in Arlong Park that Zoro realized he did trust Nami after all. He threw himself into he sea, arms bound and body in pain, doing nothing but flashing the red-head with a snide smirk. He sank to the ocean floor, not bothering to spare a thought for when she'd come, because he knew it'd happen eventually._

_It hurt like a bitch, being slammed onto the concrete, but when he saw the relief in her gaze, coupled with the determination of someone who was still fighting, Zoro decided that he liked the color orange on her. It was eerily fitting, in the same way that Luffy's red vest seemed to tell the story of bloodshed to come. Or how Sanji's hair was a reminder that the sun would shine on them again. That there was no need to fear the cold or the dark, as he'd always be there to warm them up with meals from the heart._

_And that was something Zoro realized._

_In his mind, in the seclusion of his thoughts, it was damn near impossible to insult their chef. There wasn't anything he could think that wouldn't be followed by a half-assed rebuttal._

_"He's such a fucking pervert." "But he's kind as well, maybe too kind." "He's practically a work-aholic, the dumbass lives in the kitchen." "And yet he never complains, even when its clear he's fucking exhausted." "He treats women like they're so much better than him, like they have the right to degrade him. As if they're delicate flowers." "But maybe...Kuina would be alive."_

_It annoyed the swordsman. He'd never met someone so selfless, someone who always gave. For a long time, Zoro did things for himself and only himself, but meeting Luffy and watching Sanji made him reconsider. What it would feel like to be apart of a crew. A bit late in the game, seeing as he'd put his life on the line multiple times but shit happens._

_The emotions that Sanji filled him with were complicated and yet startlingly simple._

_"You like him doofus." Nami scoffed, hitting him on the head as they sat drinking on Cactus Island, Zoro doing his best to ignore both his irritation with the cook, and foreboding sensation that something was wrong._

_Zoro snorted. "Me? Like him? Not likely."_

_She didn't believe him. "Uh-huh. And that's why you're scowling more than normal, shooting glances at him over your shoulder, and ruining that almost attractive mug of yours." Her eyes twinkled and she took another huge swig, causing the people around them to burst into cacophonous celebration. "If it bothers you so much, forfeit the match and rest up. You'll need the energy to for later." She winked, grinning sloppily at the multiple wolf whistles. Zoro groaned, hitting his head on the table to hide his smirk. They were likely the only two in their group who even realized that something was amiss._

_He wondered how much she'd managed to steal. Not that it mattered, its not like they were on a time-limit. He planned on killing all of them, shitty ass Baroque Works._

_-_

_It wasn't until they began their new adventure with Vivi that colors crossed his mind again. This time it was blue. Electric blue. A vibrant shade, and Zoro noticed how much it contrasted with Sanji's sea blue gaze._

_The longer they traveled with the Alabastian Princess, the more he noted the different things in his life that were blue, and how, inevitably, they led back to the cook._

_And then they met Robin, and the swordsman was forced to admit that he had an infatuation with the color._

_Blue._

_Blue._

_Blue._

_It was fucking everywhere._

_Zoro was starting to hate the sky, and he could swear that it was mocking him, the sun shining down a constant reminder of the blonde's golden hair._

_Robin noticed, she knew, and before long they shared they night watch together, or she'd help him adjust his penmanship. One late night, their shoulders brushed, and the feeling wasn't nearly as unpleasant as he thought it'd be--and he'd thought about it._

_Her eyes were different from the cook. Sharp and_ _piercing. She looked into his soul and ran her fingers through his hair, she whispered in his ear and told him the stories of her travels._

_He loved it, but the nagging feeling that something was missing filled his heart and flooded his body, making his movements tense. Zoro was embarrassed. He apologized, having never done anything even remotely similar to relationship before, not even understanding what the hell was going on. His eyes kept shifting to the galley, the fucking kitchen, and he couldn't stop wishing that the cook was there. With him. Robin followed his eyes, and when she saw where he was looking she laughed, a tinkling sound._

_"I see." She told him, a smile on her face, but Zoro noticed that her blue was different now, colder and distant. "You really love him don't you?"_

_The swordsman panicked. Love? The Shitty Cook? No fucking way. Hell no. It wasn't possible. Unbidden and unwanted his mind screamed, "fuck you." and flashed him with memories of rare occasions where he got the blonde to smile at him, the real one._

_He suddenly felt very alone, and very scared. He looked at the woman and reached out, before stopping himself, too frazzled to feel shame for his childish behavior. "B-but--you-- I-- how?" He struggled to talked, to get it out._

_Robin only smiled. "It's not impossible to be in love with more than one person swordsman-san." Swordsman-san. No longer Zoro, like she'd been calling him the last few weeks, whenever they were alone._

_They were sitting side by side and yet the gap between them felt huge, an uncrossable gorge._

_Even still, he wished for the chef._

_-_

_Zoro was in love with Sanji._

_Fuck._

_Of course he was in love._

_Damn shitty cook._

_If anyone would bother to ask, Zoro would admit that blue was his favorite color. They were there, the same as him, equal and free, so there was really no point in putting one above the other._

_But hell, Sanji was always lowering himself to accommodate everyone's needs. It wouldn't hurt to put him on a pedestal, just this once, even if it was only in Zoro's mind._

_-_

_Sanji didn't love him._

_Sanji hated him._

_Hated him enough to wanted to have starved._

_But he knew that already._

_He knew._

_He did._

_So why did it hurt so much?_

_Zoro sat in the training room, clawing at his chest. The scar from Mihawk began to bleed._

_It was oddly satisfying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your thoughts!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!!<3

**Author's Note:**

> I love this so much! ^_^ I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts! <3


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